I'm Only Sleeping
by Crochet
Summary: Years in Privet Psychiatric Hospital have certainly taken a toll on Hermione. Up until she befriends Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, her life had been all but predictable. Between mischief and everything that comes with with great friendships, is the mental institution suddenly not as it seems?
1. I'm Only Sleeping

Chapter 1- Routine

**A/N: Hello all. This is my first attempt at fanfiction and it's an idea that's been floating around my head for a little while. I figured now was as good a time as any to get started, so here it is. Before we start, you should know that I'm not an author, and I have a hard time committing to writing. That being said, any encouragement would be much appreciated. While the plot for the story is completely AU, I will do my best to keep the characters as true to themselves as possible, so please hold me to that! You might find that I am a bit vague on details as of now, but I promise I'll provide them in due time. Thank you so much for reading, do review so I know what you think! On that note, let's get to it!]**

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><p><em>"Everybody seems to think I'm lazy<em>_  
><em>_I don't mind, I think they're crazy__  
><em>_Please, don't spoil my day, I'm miles away__  
><em>_And after all I'm only sleeping"_  
>- The Beatles, <em>I'm Only Sleeping<em>

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><p>For Hermione, at least, life at Privet Hospital for Pyschiatric Specialist Care went something like this.<p>

Waking up in the flat but somehow lumpy hospital bed, aching from the restless sleep, she realizes the sleep medicine has long since worn off, and that she has nothing left to do for the next hour or so but stare at the bland ceiling, the steel light fixtures, and the dusty air vents. There weren't any nightmares, or even hallucinations: at least not tonight; but she wasn't ignorant, for she knew they'd come back.

They always did.

At least it meant good news to pass on to her doctor. He would be positive and insightful about it all, though she knew mental illness was hardly something to cheer about.

The technician came when expected, while Hermione was lounging between the state of awake and asleep. She reluctantly drew herself out of bed, despite knowing the day's activities were to be as insipid as they had since her arrival at the hospital precisely three years, seven months, and eighteen days prior.

She made quick work of brushing her teeth, hair, and pulling on the overlarge hospital-issued cardigan; she knew patience shouldn't be tested today. Aware that another patient, Ernie, had an episode last night, which woke up nearly the entire third floor the night previous.

The food was bland; as if it was somehow trying to replicate the mood set by the building she had been kept. She had to eat, anyways. Not for the sake of putting on more weight, which might have been a normal concern for someone who was at 96 pounds at the age of seventeen. No, it was because of the rules. Always the rules.

After this, she was escorted by another nameless nurse to wash and freshen up before support group, which only occurred on a three-days-a-week basis. She wasn't sure if she dreaded or looked forward to support group. The amount of medications mixed with the never-ending misery the hospital provided proved distinguishing emotions next to impossible.

At least she had some sense of familiarity when it came to support group. She recognized quite a few faces and names. Hermione could even name what some of them were there for: a fact that sometimes comforted her to know.

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><p>Metal Chairs were arranged in a semi- large circle in the lounge, allowing the patients to do nothing but gaze at each other as the tech relayed her version of 'words of encouragement'. However, Hermione couldn't complain. She was grateful they weren't forced to speak about themselves individually. Public speaking was only another factor of the illness that had plagued her mind for so long.<p>

To her immediate right was a boy named Seamus, whom she recognized as a boy diagnosed with pyromania no longer than a year ago. Though he was quite fidgety, he was often good for comic relief if necessary.

A few others she recognized consisted of Dean Thomas, Hannah Abbott, and Romilda Vane. And at the end of the room, a tall red-headed boy sat looking deeply uninterested, picking at the paper coffee cup without blinking.

Hermione had seen him perhaps once or twice without learning his name, as he rarely made noise or any sort of sign of his presence.

When the tech finished up, she advised the group to join her for social hour in the common room. This was typically the time Hermione allowed herself time to catch up on her reading and skim the pages quietly in the corner, but something prevented her this time. She briefly considered making small talk with the other patients, or perhaps taking a walk around the premises, but her contemplation was cut off by a voice.

"What've you got there?"

She brought her eyes up to meet blue ones that belonged to the red-headed boy she'd seen minutes previously. For some reason unbeknownst to her, she felt quite self-conscious and flustered. Attempting to cool herself, she answered, "Oh, erm, it's called 'The Adventures of Tom Sawyer', are you familiar?"

He smiled and shook his head.

"I mean, I've heard of it, but never actually read it. Is it good?"

"So far, yeah," she smiled.

Another awkward pause and then, "I'm Ron by the way."

"Hermione."

He extended his hand and she took it, shaking it once.


	2. Do I Wanna Know?

Chapter 2- Do I Wanna Know?

**A/N: Hey guys! It's been quite a bit since I posted this. I do have a favor to ask of you that you probably have heard a million times: review. It would really keep me going on with this to know you guys are enjoying and that I'm not writing for no reason. Thanks a bunch! This chapter is small, but it should really give you insight into Hermione's past and possibly answer some questions. :) Enjoy**

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><p>"<em>Have you got colour in your cheeks?<br>Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift  
>The type that sticks around like summat in your teeth?<em>"

-The Arctic Monkeys, _Do I Wanna Know?_

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><p>The following morning, Hermione was sitting up in bed with her elderly doctor, Dumbledore, sitting on a chair beside grasping a clipboard.<p>

"Anything been bugging you?"

"No sir."

"When was your last episode?"

"Eleven days ago."

"Good, good," he mumbled. "How has your sleep been?"

"The past two nights were fine, the night before last I barely slept."

"Did you take anything for it?"

"No sir."

He stood up and thanked her and wished her well until he saw her again and departed. Hermione quite liked him as her doctor, he was more of a person than anybody she'd met during her stay at Privet Hospital. He was always positive and full of wisdom, and never, not once, made her feel unwelcome.

Although, her content demeanor soon diminished when she realized it was Saturday: visitor's day. She pulled on one of her pairs of trousers: simple, drawstring frocks made of a thin canvas material. She prepared herself as she had every other day: brushing her wild hair, then her teeth, and straightening her clothes across from the mirror.

Though she tried - really tried- not to take in her own appearance, as soon as her eyes made contact with themselves in the mirror, she couldn't help her self-assessment.

Very bushy brown hair. Dark circles underlining her eyes. Nearly translucent, almost grayish, pales skin. A few sporadic face freckles. Two rather large front teeth. A very thin frame, with bones poking out of her skin. And worst of all, the deep red scratches adorning various places on her body. She hated them, but couldn't quite avoid them whenever she adopted panic attacks.

She dreaded it, but she knew seeing her sister was inevitable.

Escorted by a tech, Hermione treaded downstairs to the lobby, where patients were allowed visitors.

Lavender, upon spotting Hermione, walked over and gave a hug to her sister.

"Hermione, so good to see you! Let's sit, quickly, before all the good spots get taken."

Now, Hermione was used to listening to Lavender talk about herself without paying any mind to her own sister. This made seeing her bearable, but not pleasant. After all, Lavender was only a contributing factor to Hermione's anxiety.

"You'll never guess who I ran into the other day. Guess. No don't guess. Cormac Mclaggen! Remember the boy you had a crush on in secondary school? Yep! He and I ran into each other at the pub and we had drinks together! Isn't that lovely?"

Hermione couldn't help but grimace. Lavender had always been to peppy for her own liking.

"And get this- he kissed me! _Actually _kissed me! Can you believe it? We're meant to see each other tomorrow at the park, I simply can't wait!"

Hermione couldn't help but be annoyed. Who did she think she was? Was Lavender trying to make Hermione jealous of her? Sure, Lavender was definitely more attractive. She possessed the charm and good looks Hermione always lacked. All throughout primary and secondary school, Lavender was always the one who had a boyfriend, lots of friends, and popularity, while Hermione found herself countless times the object of bullying and criticism.

Hermione drummed her short, ragged nails on the tabletop, waiting for her sister to finish her spiel about her wonderful life was going without her.


	3. Sunburn

**A/N: I know the chapters are nearly unbearably short as of now, but I promise they will begin to get longer as the plot picks up. I have been meaning to update more frequently, but alas, life gets in the way…**

**Oh yeah, one more thing: REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! It only takes a few moments and it really does keep me motivated to continue this little piece of mine. :)**

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><p>"<em>If I moved far away from you<em>

_And I want to see you here beside me, dear_

_But things aren't clear_"

- Ed Sheeran, _Sunburn_

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><p>Privet Psychiatric Hospital sat deep in the a massive expanse of greenery, buried by acres upon acres of rolling hills. It was undoubtedly the largest structure in all of North Wales, its walls seemed to stretch on for miles, its gray stone exterior very much resembling that of a castle. And behind it's walls, the patients, each with their own secrets and unique disfunctions, maintained a special routine that started the moment they woke.<p>

However, Hermione thought, the patients aren't the only ones who have secrets.

She thought of a man, referred to as Doctor Snape, whom she'd caught more than once involved in "suspicious activities". The third time she'd seen him, slipping various pill bottles and sedatives under his coat, he'd punished her for being awake at such a late hour, and her reading privileges had been revoked for three months. She never told of what she's seen that night, possibly from fear of the greasy-haired tech, or the likelihood of nobody believing her.

She sat up in bed then, releasing the link in her neck and following her schedule of freshening up. Lookin at the wall calendar, she noted it was Monday. She'd spent the entirety of her weekend finishing _Tom Sawyer_, and had now moved onto _A Tale of Two Cities_.

When Hermione reached the cafeteria for breakfast, her book under her arm, she begun to make her way towards the usual table in the far back corner to catch up on her reading. She jumped when she felt a sudden touch on her shoulder, and spun around to see who had caused it.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." Said the red-haired boy, Ron.

"That's alright, I wasn't expecting it is all," she replied, subconsciously smoothing out her fringe, "what do you need?"

"Well, I was going to see if you'd wanted to sit together, my schedule changed a bit and I don't fancy sitting alone..." He added quickly, "but you don't have to, only if you want."

"Oh, erm, of course you can..." She trailed off as her heartbeat quickened. She felt sweat begin to cost her palms and a blush creeping up her neck. It was the anxiety getting the best of her again, and her small fear of association and blatant lack of social skills causing this. She didn't want to mess up again, not in front of him.

He smiled, and together they walked to her little table, and her shaky legs forced her to stumble a bit, and she grabbed his arm reflexively for support.

She looked up at him, wide eyes full of humiliation, knowing that the small moment would be a memory to dwell on for a long while in her bedroom.

"Are you alright?" He inquired, gently taking her wrist to help her regain balance.

She nodded quickly, not trusting her mouth to form a clear statement.

He sat across from her at the table, and she couldn't look him in the eye, too afraid to say anything to embarrass herself again.

"So," he started carefully, "how long have you been in Privet?"

She gulped, "Over three and a half years..whataboutyou?"

"Just under two," he held eye contact, "I've only been in this unit a month though."

She nodded. Looking down and taking a spoonful of eggs, she wondered what his disfunction was. Though, she thought, that's not the kind of thing you can exactly ask somebody that you barely know.

He looked at her again, and seemed to read her mind.

"You're wondering what I'm here for, right?" He smiled kindly.

"Well, uh, yes. That is if you want to tell me of course. Youdon'thavetothough."

"I think they called it 'clinical depression'."

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><p><strong>Surprised? Me too!<strong>


	4. Broken

**A/N: To be completely honest, I'd considered giving up on this. It seems inspiration does not strike very often, on top of the fact I didn't think anybody was following it. However, I just saw reviews from some amazing readers, so here I am, in class, carrying on this little piece of mine! I promise to update as long as I get encouragement to update. Thank you guys so much. I'm sosososo sorry to leave you guys hanging! Without further ado, here's chapter four!**

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><p>"<em>Far and away where they took you down, <em>

_led them over to your house_

_where I'm broken"_

Jake Bugg, _Broken_

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><p>There were so many questions. <em>Why? How? What happened? <em>As Hermione lie awake gazing up at the ceiling, she allowed her mind to wander to earlier the same day. She could feel it churning in her stomach. First and foremost, the embarrassment of her awkward demeanor around Ron. Secondly, concern for the red-haired boy.

He hadn't seemed at all the way she'd always expected the clinically depressed to be. He'd smiled, and _talked_, and frankly, seemed the most normal of anybody she had met in the nuthouse, sorry, _hospital_. For most others, she could pinpoint their dysfunctions right away. It was one of the few things she prided herself on. Even though the girl tried to hide it, she had to admit that even she acted the way her illness dictated. Maybe that's why Ron hadn't asked, since he already knew.

That's when the tech peered into the window of the darkened room, and for the millionth time, Hermione pretended to be sleeping.

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><p><em>She heard the footsteps before she saw him.<em>

_The man, Doctor Snape, injecting fluids into Dean's arm as he slept. Next came Seamus. Then Neville. Then Ron. Then herself._

_She tried to scream, but no sound came._

_What is he doing to us?_

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><p>The bushy-haired girl woke suddenly from the nightmare. She glanced around the dimmed room, cautiously making sure she'd made no noise in her sleep. The last thing Hermione needed was sleep medication. It was times like these Hermione thanked her lucky stars for not having a roommate. The magnitude of the hospital more than accommodated its many patients.<p>

Thankfully, morning came quickly. The girl pushed her frizzy hair into a knot at the back of her head, pushed fringe out of her eyes, and head for the cafeteria, assisted by a technician.

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><p>The following weeks were routine. The girl was thankful to have a new acquaintance, a boy who was kind and cool and astoundingly hilarious. Ron could make a remark about one of the hovering staff that would make Hermione laugh harder than she had in years. He made her smile, which was so rare that made Hermione want to spend nearly every moment with him. The anxiety was always there, of course, it just seemed to weigh less. He was different from the rest. A good kind of different. The kind that changed the ever-present churning in her stomach to a light stirring. The kind that seemed to make Privet Hospital almost bearable. And being with him, well, it almost made her feel different too.<p>

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><p>Hermione woke a bland Tuesday morning, got dressed in her favorite jumper, pulled her bushy hair back into a manageable plait, and washed her face so as not to look too drowsy. She'd decided that today would be a good day. She looked forward to Ron's company, and the sooner she could leave her room was the sooner she'd be able to see him.<p>

Following breakfast, which she'd shared with Neville, came vitals. Nurse McGonagall frowned at Hermione's depleted weight, but said nothing.

Luna, the strangely ever-cheery nurse's assistant greeted Hermione as she descended the staircase.

Community group followed. However, upon arrival, it was apparent that Ron was absent. While she was accustomed to seeing her friend (could she consider him that?) smile up at her as she walked through the door, the chair he occupied was now eerily vacant. She hoped perhaps the nurses had forgotten to wake him, or some other explanation as to why Ron was not present, and she would still catch him in the common room. Ron's absence meant the only highlight of the hour was watching the anxiety-ridden Hannah Abbott break down sobbing about the occupancy of her favorite chair. However horrible it was, Hermione felt less self conscious about her own anxiety, knowing how much worse it could have been. More normal.

Strangely, in the common room an hour later, her red-haired friend was still missing from the group. Not that she relied on him, but she enjoyed his company and he was the only one that shared a schedule with her that she talked to since Ginny. She didn't want to think about it.

She finally decided to settle down and finish up her novel. There were two girls engrossed in a whispered conversation beside her, and Hermione caught a few words.

"shouting...trying...kill himself...red hair…"

Hermione's blood turned cold at their words. She was paralyzed. Slowly, she turned to look at the girls.

"Who..what are you talking about?"

The dirty-blonde haired girl looked up.

"A boy in our unit tried to commit suicide last night. I think his name was Ron."


	5. Update

**If anyone at all was keeping up with this story, I'm dreadfully sorry. I know what it's like to love a story that becomes abandoned. Fortunately, that is not going to be the case with this one. I do intend on finishing this story. It's going to be a commitment, one that I may even start over with from the top. I read back on my chapters and I realize that there is lots of content I left out, the chapters aren't as long as I'd like. I plan on either going back and editing or starting it fresh from the top. Please let me know what you think. Thank you!**


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